


Smoke and Mirrors

by anon_decepticon



Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Coercive Sex, Dubious Consent, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Slash, Stalking, Sticky, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-23
Updated: 2009-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon_decepticon/pseuds/anon_decepticon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An angsty little four-part series about a 'Con with a crush. When Inferno saves Breakdown from a fiery death, he ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moth to Flame

**Author's Note:**

> **Obligatory Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers.   
> My eighth fic for the kink meme. The original prompt is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/tf2007fun/506446.html?thread=16192078#t16192078).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown catches fire. Inferno puts him out. Breakdown becomes very...confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter quotes two lines of dialogue from the G1 cartoon episode _"Masquerade,"_ and retells one of the scenes as a flashback from Breakdown's POV. The time units are borrowed from the IDW comics, although the setting is still G1. These portions of the fic are _not_ mine.

**Smoke and Mirrors: Moth to Flame**

**~1 stellar cycle ago (7.5 Earth months)**

"Wildrider, wait!"

They'd gotten away with the laser lenses without so much as a hitch, but then the three Autobots had appeared, blocking their path, their bodies forming a barricade across the road. Wildrider had torn right past them, laughing maniacally, but Breakdown, with the stolen component stowed in his trunk, didn't relish the thought of having to try and mimic his gestaltmate's risky maneuver. If the lenses were damaged, it wouldn't be _Wildrider_ who got the blame.

His processor raced, calculating time and distance, striving to determine the series of actions that would have the highest probability of success. He had to act, and act fast. The slightest mistake could spell disaster.

To top it all off, his HUD was flashing. He was leaking oil. _Again_.

Making his choice, Breakdown swerved wide to avoid the first Autobot, accelerating as he went. One down, two to go. This was going to be _tight_…

The next thing he knew, he was on fire.

Not in the good way. In the _literal_ sense.

A swarm of scarlet warnings lit up his HUD as they registered his external temperature's rapid ascent. An astrosecond later every sensor he possessed was screaming in agony. Unbearable heat enveloped him, frying his circuits, devouring him whole. His CPU informed him that if the fire reached his fuel reserves, there was a roughly 93% chance he'd end up in pieces scattered across the landscape.

That was when he started to panic.

He was _on fire._ He was _burning..!_

He was dimly aware of babbling something – screaming it, really – but he wasn't sure what it was, or if it was even intelligible. He wasn't computing clearly, he couldn't process anything beyond _fire_, _terror_ and _pain_.

And then suddenly, it stopped.

The awful heat receded, quenched by blessed coolness. Crimson warnings of imminent destruction gave way to orange and yellow damage reports, winking fitfully in his HUD. His internal cooling fans kicked on, cycled for a few revolutions, then stuttered to a coughing halt as he offlined, twitching.

 

**~8.6 deca-cycles ago (6.5 Earth months)**

The desert was peaceful.

Breakdown liked coming out here. Sometimes, when he couldn't take being around the other Decepticons anymore, not even his own gestalt, he'd come here. He felt safe among the tall cliffs and rocky overhangs. There were plenty of nooks and crannies he could hide in, lots of shadowy pockets to conceal him from prying optics.

Here, he could finally relax, confident that there wasn't a sentient being around for miles. No one to watch. No one to stare at him.

He cycled his vents contentedly, settling back into the pleasantly sun-warmed crevice he'd found overlooking the canyon floor, and slipped into a blissful recharge.

He onlined with a start to the sound of engines…and voices.

"Are you sure about this, Inferno? My duties–"

"Can wait," another voice interrupted. "Right now you got a duty to _me_, Red. I been feelin' neglected."

Breakdown's optics widened. He recognized that voice.

_"I'll probably hate myself in the mornin' but…"_

It was _him._ The Autobot who'd saved him from a violent and explosive end.

Breakdown scrambled to his knees, crawling to the edge of the overhang to peer over the ledge.

"Mmm…'nferno…"

Breakdown stared in uneasy fascination, hypnotized by the sight of the intertwined mechs below him. They were standing very close to each other, closer than he'd ever seen two mechs stand, and they were touching each other in ways he'd never seen anyone touch.

They were making strange noises, too. Odd pants and whimpers and…moans.

Breakdown could feel his faceplate heating as he watched them – in fact all of him seemed to be heating up, even faster than exposure to the desert sun could account for. His internal cooling fans kicked on automatically, but appeared to have little effect.

The pair was stretched out on the ground now; the one who had saved him had the other pinned beneath his larger frame, but the smaller mech didn't seem to mind – he was murmuring words of encouragement in a strained but eager tone as they moved together in unison; small, curiously rhythmic movements that started out slow but gradually sped up.

Their wordless cries rose in pitch and volume along with their pace, and Breakdown found himself panting along with them, a strange charge building in his circuits as he watched.

Their cries reached a peak and they abruptly went limp, like they'd actually offlined for few astroseconds.They lay like that for a while, whispering to each other in voices pitched too low for him to hear, then rose, transformed, and drove off the way they had come.

 

**~1.3 deca-cycles ago (1 Earth month)**

"Nnnferno–!"

"I love hearin' you say my name, Red. I love how you always say it right before you–"

"Inferno! Ah! _Inferno–!_"

Breakdown scowled as he watched the trysting Autobots thrust, moan and grind their way to completion. The soft whirr of cooling fans and cycling vents replaced the rhythmic clank and scrape of metal against metal. He checked his internal chronometer.

_Just under three breems. Same as always._

He shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to stroke his own overheated plating, to touch his own sizzling wires. He'd given in to that temptation before. The results never failed to disappoint him.

He just couldn't _do_ it right. He didn't know how. But the Autobot did. Breakdown was sure of it.

He knew because he'd watched him. _A lot._ He'd watched the Autobot fire truck touch his Lamborghini lover on countless occasions, seen how those touches made the smaller mech moan and writhe and cling to him, crying out his name with ecstatic abandon: _Inferno, Inferno–!_

He'd tried mimicking those touches, putting his hands and fingers in all the same places. The first time he'd tried it, he'd known immediately he was on to something – his spark had pulsed in a way he'd never felt before, and the heat and electric charge that always built up inside him whenever he watched or thought about the Autobot fire truck had suddenly gone supernova.

It had felt so good, Breakdown thought he was dying.

But that had been because it was new. He'd since realized that something was missing, something big and good that would make how he'd felt that day seem trivial by comparison, a pale imitation of the real thing.

He knew because he'd watched them. There were places to touch that Breakdown couldn't reach. There were…interlocking parts.

He stared down at the sated couple sprawled on the ground beneath his rocky perch. He hated them. He hated _him_. He bit back a keen of longing, afraid of alerting the pair to his presence. He wanted the big Autobot to touch _him_ like that.

Of course the fire truck would never do it. He was an Autobot; Breakdown was a Decepticon. The only kind of touching permitted between them was the kind that caused pain, not pleasure.

He watched as the two departed, then leaned back against the rocky cliff face and contemplated giving in to temptation. Lately it only left him feeling bitter and resigned, unsatisfied. The Autobot would _never_ touch him like that, not in a thousand vorns.

...but then why had the Autobot saved him?

Breakdown speculated on that topic at some length. He thought about it while he touched himself, mused on the solution as he stroked his wires and imagined the Autobot's fingers caressing all those special places he couldn't reach.

The answer came to him like a revelation, and triggered the most powerful explosion of pleasure he'd experienced yet. For the first time, he actually cried out aloud.

_Inferno–!_

How had he not realized it before? _The Autobot wanted _him_, too._

 

**~1 cycle ago (1 Earth hour) **

Breakdown was practically quivering in anticipation.

It had taken almost a deca-cycle to devise and coordinate his plan, but at long last it was nearly time to set it into motion.

He had escaped the Decepticon base without being waylaid or bothered with troublesome questions about where he was slipping off to. He was in position. He was ready. He was _eager_. Soon the Autobot couple would arrive for their usual rendezvous, ready to indulge in a few stolen breems of sensual bliss.

When they did, Breakdown would be waiting.

_Ah, there they were._

The smaller Autobot was in the lead, just as he always was. Just as Breakdown had hoped he would be. He took careful aim with his concussion rifle, fighting to still the trembling in his hands long enough to fire the precise shot he needed. The element of surprise was everything. The smaller Autobot had highly attuned sensors and a swift reaction time. If Breakdown missed, the whole plan would fall apart.

He was crossing into the target zone now. Breakdown fired.

The ground exploded beneath the red and white Lamborghini's tires, launching the vehicle into the air and flipping it end-over-end. The Autobot tried to transform, but the secondary effect of the concussion blast had glitched his transform sequence, just as Breakdown had intended.

He landed on his roof with a sickening crunch, a shower of rocks and debris raining down on his exposed undercarriage.

The larger, slower and far less maneuverable fire truck skidded to a halt and transformed, crying out the other's name in alarm as he ran to his companion's aid.

Breakdown fired again.

The fire truck reeled and staggered, stumbling back and falling flat on his aft. He continued to flail about weakly, calling for his lover, but it was clear Breakdown's plan had been sound, his aim true. The big Autobot was blinded. His partner was offline.

Grinning triumphantly, Breakdown descended into the canyon to claim his prize.

 

**Now (Wednesday afternoon, 2 pm PST Earth time)**

"Red? Red Alert! Answer me, are you alright?"

Breakdown frowned as he approached the struggling Autobot. Why was he still calling for _him_? Feeling suddenly wary, he crouched down, dampened his energy signature, and crept the remaining few feet to the fire truck's side on his hands and knees.

One of the Autobot's blindly questing hands bumped against his arm, and Breakdown quickly caught it. The larger mech practically sagged in relief. "_Red,_" he said, "Thank Primus you're all right."

Breakdown kissed him.

It was a bad kiss, clumsy and awkward – Breakdown had never attempted to kiss anyone before – but the Autobot responded to it nonetheless, enthusiastically returning his embrace. An astrosecond later a slippery glossa pushed past his lip components, invading his mouth. A startled moan escaped his vocalizer at the unfamiliar sensation, simultaneously repellant and enticing.

Breakdown's spark pulsed with elation and growing desire. He'd been right! The Autobot _did_ want him! Already charged by anticipation and flush with his success, that single kiss was all it took to make Breakdown's core temperature spike. His engine gave an involuntary rev.

The fire truck broke the kiss with a chuckle at the sound. "My optics're bust, can't tell how damaged you are, but I'm guessin' you mustn't be _too_ bad off if you're still in the mood, huh Red?"

Breakdown answered him with another kiss.

The next few kliks were the greatest in Breakdown's short existence. Pausing only long enough to retract the nozzle covering his right hand, the Autobot quickly set both hands to the task of stimulating Breakdown's heated chassis. They moved over his frame with deft assurance, seeking out all his secret hot spots, caressing his sensitive spoiler and wheel wells, teasing and fondling his shoulder tires. The knowing touches that so lovingly ravished his frame were so much _better_ than the ones Breakdown had bestowed upon himself; he didn't know where the Autobot would touch next, and the mystery of it excited him all the more.

He tried his best to reciprocate, exploring the Autobot's chassis with greedy fascination, and was rewarded when the fire truck groaned and arched into his fingers. Encouraged, Breakdown persisted, climbing into the Autobot's lap and straddling his thighs, groping and tugging at wires, stroking every part of his frame he could reach.

And kissing. Oh, _how_ had he gone so long not knowing about _kissing?!_ The Autobot's mouth was so _warm_, so _wet_, and his _glossa–!_

A faint clicking sound distracted Breakdown from his enraptured exploration. He glanced down, looking for the source of the noise, and his optics widened at the sight of the open panel exposing the Autobot's interface circuitry, a sight currently dominated by a very _large_, very _erect_ spike.

He drew back in surprise, feeling more than a little daunted. He was so distracted he didn't notice the soft rustling sound of dislodged pebbles falling behind him, or the faint groan that didn't come from his partner.

That was when everything began to fall apart.

"Red? What's the matter?"

Breakdown's spark contracted in panic. The Autobot had noticed his hesitation! He computed quickly, trying to think of a way to respond without using his vocalizer or arousing further suspicion–

"Uhn...where..._Inferno,_ look out! That's not me! It's _Breakdown!_"

"_WHAT_?!"

The fire truck stiffened, flinching back from the hands he'd been leaning into, away from the touch that he'd been enjoying only moments before. His darkened optics widened in shock, his lip components twisting in disgust. He tried to pull back, to push the Stunticon away, but Breakdown clutched at his shoulder-struts, preventing him.

"_NO!_" Breakdown cried, and flinched at his own volume, his own desperation. "No," he repeated, managing to achieve a calmer tone. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's _me_. You don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to settle for _him_ anymore – _I'm_ here."

"What're you talkin' about?" the fire truck demanded. "Are you _insane_? Get offa me, ya crazy Decepticon!"

Breakdown shook his helm in confusion. The Autobot wanted _him_, not that other Autobot! Why else would he have saved him? Why else would he have chosen to dally with a mech who was practically Breakdown's _twin_, a mech with the same build type, the same personality quirks? He was only with _that_ mech because he couldn't have _Breakdown_, because Breakdown was a Decepticon!

...wasn't he?

"I – _I'm_ the one you want. You want _me_, not _him_," he insisted. Why did his voice sound so bewildered, so small and uncertain that Breakdown scarcely recognized his own vocalizer?

It _was_ true. It _had_ to be true!

"Why in the _Pit_ would I want _you_?!" the Autobot retorted. "I love _Red Alert!_ I only want _him_!"

Breakdown's entire world _shattered._

_It was a lie. It _had_ to be a lie! The fire truck was only saying that because the other Autobot was listening!_

...but what if it _wasn't_ a lie?

The shock and pain and devastation that had contracted his spark exploded all at once into a towering, incandescent _rage_. It was all _his_ fault! _He'd_ lured the fire truck away from Breakdown, convinced him to reject the Stunticon in favor of _him!_

He unsubspaced his blaster with a snarl, raised and held it to the fire truck's head.

"Don't move," he hissed. "If you move, I'll kill him."

"Inferno!" the other Autobot called out, sounding weak and frightened.

_Inferno–!_

"I love you, Red! Everythin's gonna be okay!"

"It will be," Breakdown purred dangerously, "as long as you do what I say."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to touch me. Like you did before. The way you touch _him_."

"You're crazy!"

Breakdown growled, shoving the blaster hard against the Autobot's helm, hard enough to dent. "_Do it._ Or he dies."

The Autobot hesitated, glancing with unseeing optics in the direction of his lover's voice.

"I'm sorry, Red. I can't let him hurt you."

"Inferno…"

Breakdown sighed through his vents as the fire truck's hands once more began moving over his chassis, stroking and fondling, stimulating wires and sensor nodes. He arched into the touches, groaning with pleasure.

He'd been right. The Autobot _did_ want him. He'd just needed an _excuse._

Things progressed much as they had before. Breakdown allowed his grip on the blaster to slacken as he shuddered and pressed himself against the Autobot. Warnings began to flash in his HUD as his core temperature rose, his circuits sparking.

"Good," he panted as his internal cooling fans kicked on. "That's right, just like that."

His interfacing panel snicked open abruptly, startling him. He glanced down in surprise.

His spark thrummed with excitement. This was it. This was the part he'd been missing!

The Autobot's spike was still extended, pressed hot and hard against his abdominal plating. Bracing himself on the fire truck's shoulder-struts, Breakdown rose up onto his knees, positioning himself so that the tip was poised at the opening his panel had concealed.

"Do it now," he told the Autobot. "Like you do with _him_."

"I'm sorry, Red," the fire truck whispered, and pushed inside him.

Breakdown choked back a scream. The Autobot had _broken_ something inside of him! Hunching over in pain, he sobbed through his intakes, biting down on his lip component to keep from crying out as his sensory grid was assaulted by agony. The Autobot had _betrayed_ him! He'd only been _pretending_ to cooperate long enough to try and escape!

…but the fire truck _wasn't_ trying to escape. In fact he'd gone very, very still. Gritting his denta against the pain, Breakdown fought to raise his helm enough to see the other's face, meeting the Autobot's blind gaze.

"That was a _seal_," Inferno breathed in a horrified whisper. "You've never–"

"Shut up!" Breakdown shrieked, static lacing his vocalizer. "It's not _my_ fault! It's _yours!_ You're doing it _wrong!_ You're supposed to do it like you do with _him!_"

Tightening his grip on the blaster, he pressed it against the Autobot's helm again. "I'm not stupid," he growled. "I've seen you. I've _watched_ you. You can't trick me."

The sharp, stinging pain had receded, leaving behind only a dull ache and a vaguely uncomfortable sensation of fullness. Breakdown had flinched away instinctively when he was initially penetrated, but now he eased back down again, slowly and gingerly lowering himself to straddle the Autobot's thighs once more, wincing as the spike inside him pressed in deeper.

"Now do it _right_," he commanded. "If you hurt me again...I'll kill you both."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the tension slowly eased from the Autobot's frame. "Okay," he said quietly.

Large hands shifted to grip Breakdown's hip plate. "Okay," the fire truck said again, "Nice and easy, now."

With the Autobot's hands guiding him, Breakdown began to rock back and forth at a gentle, unhurried pace. At first he winced and hissed in discomfort, but within a few kliks he felt a familiar heat beginning to pool in his interface circuitry, and slowly he began to relax.

"That's it," the fire truck murmured. "You're doin' fine."

The surprising tenderness in the Autobot's voice startled and delighted Breakdown. That was the way he spoke to _him!_ His spark pulsed in its chamber, and he gasped as a sudden rush of pleasure washed over him.

Shifting his grip on the Autobot's shoulder-struts to brace himself, he began to rock faster. The hands on his hips urged him upward, and Breakdown complied, adjusting to a motion that was less back-and-forth and more up-and-down. The fire truck groaned as the Decepticon rode him, and Breakdown's spark throbbed with joy. He _did_ want him!

Panting through his intakes, his initial pain nothing more than a memory, Breakdown quickened his movements, whimpering as the pleasurable sensations within him continued to increase. The fire truck was moving with him now, thrusting up and into him, filling him, drawing short, quavering moans from his vocalizer.

The Autobot's spike, which had at first seemed intimidatingly large, now felt like it fit him perfectly, just big enough to fit snugly inside him while still sliding in and out smoothly. The rising heat and increasing friction were steadily building, and it was _good_, no, it was _better_, it was just as he'd known it would be–

Seized by a sudden urge, he dropped his blaster and embraced the Autobot, smothering the fire truck's lip components in a fevered, hungry kiss.

After a moment's hesitation, his kiss was returned, and Breakdown keened in happiness against the Autobot's mouth, rocking faster. The initial warnings were popping up on his HUD; it was coming, it was happening–

_Inferno–!_

Breakdown threw his helm back and wailed his overload to the open sky, his frame jerking helplessly as torrents of pleasure rocketed over him in waves. He felt the Autobot tense beneath him, felt his hands tightening on his hip plate, and then the hot, fluid burst of his release.

_Inferno..._

He collapsed against the larger mech's frame, panting and shivering in the aftermath of ecstasy.

For several kliks Breakdown simply basked in the sensation of pleasurable weakness, enjoying the comforting warmth emanating from the broad, solid frame beneath him. He nuzzled the fire truck's helm, practically purring in contentment.

The Autobot shifted awkwardly beneath him. "Um…can we go now?"

Breakdown lifted his helm in surprise, staring into the fire truck's darkened optics. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words emerged from his vocalizer.

_He was an Autobot. Breakdown was a Decepticon._

"...yes."

He lifted himself off the larger mech's lap, wobbily regaining his feet for only a few astroseconds before sinking weakly back down to the ground. He watched in silence as the fire truck rose, put himself in order, and then sought out his injured lover, calling out to him, finding him, helping him to his feet.

The smaller Lamborghini, Breakdown's Autobot twin, hesitated only long enough to confirm that his partner was unharmed before turning to face the Stunticon, reaching into subspace to retrieve his weapon.

Inferno caught Red Alert's arm, halting him. "No, Red. Let's...let's just go."

One look at Breakdown's lost and plaintive expression was all it took to persuade the incensed Security Director.

They transformed and departed without another word.


	2. Crash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown was confused. Now Inferno is too. Who's obsessed with whom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inferno's POV. This chapter takes place a few days after the events of _"Moth to Flame,"_ and obliquely references the events of the G1 episode _"Auto Berserk."_

**Smoke and Mirrors: Crash and Burn**

Inferno pulled away from his lover's embrace, from Red Alert's gentle kisses. "I'm sorry, Red..."

The Autobot Security Director regarded him with a sympathetic expression. "It's all right, Inferno. Believe me, I understand."

Inferno didn't doubt it. Red had never really gone into the details, but Inferno knew that more had gone on between Starscream and his partner during the incident with the Negavator than Red had put into his official report. If anyone could understand having mixed feelings about a Decepticon, it was Red Alert.

But Inferno couldn't bring himself to confess what was _really_ weighing on his processor. Not even to audials as sympathetic as Red's.

The truth was so much worse than his lover realized.

Red had had an excuse – he'd been badly damaged at the time, not in control of himself or his actions. Whatever he may or may not have done with Starscream, Red wasn't truly at fault. Even if some part of him had been willing, even if he had enjoyed it, he was still essentially blameless.

Inferno hadn't been that badly damaged. He'd been blinded but otherwise functional. He'd been fully capable of making rational decisions.

But he hadn't. He'd let his spike do the thinking for him.

No one had questioned Inferno's actions on that day. The circumstances had been such that not even Red, who'd been present to witness it all, thought Inferno was anything other than an innocent victim. His arousal had been perfectly explainable; Breakdown had tricked him, taking advantage of his damaged optics and pretending to be his lover. His decision to comply with the Stunticon's demands once the ruse had been revealed had been a purely selfless act, a heroic sacrifice made solely out of fear for his lover's safety.

Except it hadn't been.

He _had_ been worried for Red, of course he'd been; Inferno would sooner offline than see his lover come to harm. But he hadn't been _that_ concerned, for either Red or himself. Not because he'd doubted Breakdown's threats were sincere; he was certain they had been. But he'd also been fairly certain that he could defeat Breakdown and escape, if it came to that. If Breakdown was as similar to Red Alert as his build suggested, Inferno's strength would have easily outmatched his. He could have fought Breakdown if he'd wanted to. He could have stopped him. He hadn't tried.

That was the awful truth that Inferno didn't dare to admit to his lover.

A lot of emotions had gone through his processor when the Decepticon had issued his demand. Shock and disbelief had come first, of course. A hint of disgust, a thrill of fear when the weapon had come into play. But his arousal had remained constant throughout – _no, be honest, Inferno, at least with yourself_ – it had _increased_.

He'd been so revved already, both from the anticipation of the tryst and from the heated foreplay he'd unwittingly engaged in with Breakdown, that even after he'd learned it _wasn't_ his lover he was touching, he'd still been ready to go. And everything about the situation – the fact that he couldn't _see_ Breakdown, Red Alert being present and aware of what was going on, the danger, the forbidden allure of 'facing with the enemy – had only served to wind him up all the more.

And then there was that little voice that sometimes crept into his processor, the one that whispered horrible questions late at night, questions he'd never dare ask Red Alert, questions that echoed Inferno's deepest doubts and fears: _What had _really_ gone on between his lover and Starscream? Had Red initiated it? Had he _liked_ it? Did he think about Starscream when they were together? Did he crave the Seeker's touch even now?_

That horrid little voice thought the situation with Breakdown was the perfect opportunity for revenge. He could betray Red with a Decepticon, just as Red had betrayed him, and be just as blameless. Then they would be even. Red Alert would have an ugly little voice to plague _him_ with questions too, and Inferno wouldn't have to feel so _guilty_ all the time.

And so, driven by base lust and petty jealously, Inferno had done what Breakdown wanted, touching him like a lover would, feeling his own circuits heating up as he did so, and hating himself more with every passing astrosecond. Hating Breakdown too, for putting him in this position, for peeling away the loving, amiable mask Inferno showed the world and exposing the jealous, spiteful mech that lurked underneath.

That was why when Breakdown demanded Inferno enter him, Inferno had done so as forcefully as he could, feeling a sort of vicious satisfaction in knowing that his size would surely hurt the smaller mech. He would never have been so rough with Red Alert, would never _want_ to be, but Breakdown was another story. Breakdown _deserved_ to be hurt for insisting he 'face him in front of his lover. He deserved to be punished for forcing Inferno to confront that dark, shameful side of himself, to face down his own guilt and self-loathing. Breakdown had _asked_ for it. Inferno gave it to him.

It hadn't occurred to him that Breakdown might still have an intact seal.

He really should have guessed. Everything up until that point had suggested it – the uncertain touches, the sloppy, inexpert kisses, the odd moments of hesitation – Breakdown's every word and gesture had practically _trumpeted_ his ignorance, but Inferno hadn't been listening. He'd been too caught up in his own tangled emotions to recognize the clues he'd been given.

Inferno first began to comprehend the depth of his error when he breached that thin barrier, felt the Stunticon trembling in his arms as he fought not to scream. When Breakdown had leveled his accusations, inadvertently revealing just how naïve he really was, realization had struck the Autobot like a physical blow. While an adult in frame and processor, emotionally Breakdown was little more than a sparkling. A very confused and misguided sparkling, one who'd unquestionably gone very, very astray...but a sparkling nonetheless.

Inferno had felt lower than an oil stain.

He resolved at that moment to be very gentle with Breakdown, in spite of the fact that Breakdown was a Decepticon, in spite of his threats against Red and everything else he had done. As far as Inferno was concerned, it was the only _right_ thing to do. He knew that living among the Decepticons, it was unlikely anyone would ever be so gentle with Breakdown again. For him, that alone was reason enough.

He'd intended it as an act of charity, of pity. A brief concession to one less fortunate. Red Alert would surely forgive him for that. And afterward Inferno could return to his home and the arms of his lover, his guilt assuaged, and think no more about it.

But he _had_ thought about it. He couldn't _stop_ thinking about it.

It wasn't just the memory of the interface itself that had become lodged in Inferno's processor, although it _had_ been memorable. Breakdown's valve had been – as one might expect – _extremely_ tight, and he'd been…not exactly _vocal_ – at least, not in the way Red Alert was vocal – but he'd made these _sounds_, these hungry, needy little _whimpers_ that had revved Inferno's engines more than he would have ever thought possible.

He felt terribly guilty about that. He'd interfaced with a mech who was practically a sparkling, and while everyone who knew of it believed he'd only done so under duress, or out of magnanimity – and he _had_ – he'd also enjoyed it immensely.

It was just one more stone added to the burden of guilt weighing on him. There were so many others he couldn't bear to list them all. He'd committed so many wrongs, against Red, and now against Breakdown –

"We shouldn't have left him there."

Red Alert broke into his musings, reminding Inferno where he was, who he was with. Inferno had fallen into a long, pensive silence as his thoughts drifted, recalling their recent experience.

Apparently Red's had, too. "Breakdown, I mean," he clarified. "We should have brought him back with us. Back to the _Ark_."

"I dunno, Red. I understand you're angry about what he did, but–"

"I was angry," Red Alert interrupted. "Part of me still is. But I'm not talking about punishing him, or getting revenge for what he did to you."

Inferno stiffened in surprise. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting. Red Alert wasn't a heartless mech by any means, but he wasn't the type to forgive readily, either.

It was a relief to learn that Red Alert wasn't interested in revenge (after the Negavator incident, Inferno had wanted to pound Starscream's faceplate in for what he'd done with Red – _no, _to_ Red, not _with_, Red was damaged and couldn't help himself_) but as convenient as it was, it almost hurt to hear it. Did Red Alert think Inferno wasn't _worth_ avenging? Did he suspect Inferno hadn't been _completely_ unwilling?

"I think we had an opportunity that day, but we failed to take it," Red Alert continued. "I'm not sorry about that – _you_ were my primary concern at the time – but I can't help wondering if we'll ever have a chance like that again."

Inferno shook his helm in confusion, "A chance for _what?_ What are you talking about, Red?"

"If you'd seen how he looked when we left him, you'd understand," Red Alert replied quietly. "He looked like...like the ground had been pulled out from under him. I don't think Breakdown's happy being a Decepticon. I think...I think attacking us might have been his way of, I don't know, reaching out to us. Maybe his loyalty to Megatron isn't fully cemented yet. Maybe if we reached out to him..."

Inferno couldn't believe his audials. Was Red seriously suggesting they invite Breakdown to join the Autobots?!

_Imagine seeing him every day, close enough to touch…no, imagine everyone getting to _know_ him, finding out just how innocent he really is._

Spark clenching in shame and self-disgust, Inferno lashed out. "Right, Red, and maybe we should invite _Starscream_ to join us, too! Bet you'd like that, huh? Seein' him every day? Runnin' into him in the corridors? Pit, I bet the two of you would get along just _dandy_–"

Seeing the shocked and horrified expression on Red Alert's faceplate cut short Inferno's tirade.

Primus, what had he done? He opened his mouth to apologize, to say _something_, anything, to tell Red he hadn't meant it, but his vocalizer refused to function. Oh, why couldn't it have done that half a klik ago?

Consumed by guilt and shame, unable to speak, Inferno did the only thing he could. He fled.

He tore out of the _Ark_, his tires screaming. The memory of the look in Red Alert's optics haunted him. How could he have _said_ that? How could he have said such horrible things to Red? How could he have hurt him like that?

One more stone for the pile.

_He'll never forgive me._

When Inferno had left the _Ark_, he'd had no direction in mind beyond _away_. He'd let his tires meet the road and take him where they would. So he was surprised when he found himself entering an all-too-familiar area.

_This is where Red and I used to meet. This is where Breakdown..._

The scene of the crime, as it were.

He braked to a halt and transformed, looking around. It had only been about a third of a deca-cycle since the incident – less than a full Earth week. Very little had changed. Dry ground, rock, the odd clump of cacti and brush...

The soft pattering sound of falling dust and scree off to his left reached his audials.

He wasn't alone.

Inferno whirled to face the sound, his spark pulsing. Had Red Alert come after him? Had he forgiven him?

He came optic-to-optic with Breakdown.

"You," he blurted in surprise.

"You came back," the Decepticon replied. He sounded surprised and…pleased. He sidled closer, reaching out to run his fingertips over Inferno's chestplate. "I knew you'd come back," he murmured smugly. "Knew it was me you wanted."

"I didn't come here for _you_," Inferno informed him coldly.

Breakdown's grin vanished. "Then why are you here?"

Inferno didn't really have an answer for that. He wasn't sure why he'd come. _Here_, of all places...

He stiffened as Breakdown edged closer, pressing himself tight against Inferno's chassis and nuzzling his helm crests. "You want to do it again," Breakdown crooned confidently into his audial. "You want to do it with _me_."

Inferno couldn't truly deny it. The memory of interfacing with Breakdown was all too vivid in his processor, and he couldn't help entertaining the notion, envisioning taking Breakdown again, imagining sinking his spike deep into that tight, inexperienced valve and hearing those delicious little whimpers as he brought the Decepticon to overload...

Then he remembered Red Alert.

"I didn't come here for you," he said again. "I told you before: _I love Red Alert. I only want him_."

For an astrosecond Breakdown's violet optics flickered with uncertainty, but he rallied quickly. "Where is he, then?" he challenged. "Why isn't he here with you? Why aren't you with him?"

_Because he hates me now,_ Inferno's processor supplied.

Aloud he said, "None of your business, Decepticon."

Breakdown eyed him a moment, then giggled delightedly. "He figured it out, didn't he? He knows you lied to him."

Inferno's spark contracted in its chamber. _How could he know that?_ "Shut up," he demanded weakly, unable to put any real force behind the words.

Breakdown leaned into him, close enough that Inferno could feel the heat emanating from the smaller mech. "He knows you wanted it," he purred. "He knows you _liked_ it."

Inferno's spark pulsed with dread. Was it _that_ obvious? Was his deceit so nakedly apparent that even a _Decepticon_ could see it?

"Shut up," he said again, a little more firmly.

"He knows you lied. Now he doesn't want you anymore."

It was too close to home, too close to the truth. Inferno was swallowed by a wave of despair.

_He'll never forgive me._

Breakdown chortled gleefully. "It's okay. You don't need him; you have _me_."

Inferno stared at him, his fuel tanks churning in disgust – for Breakdown, and for himself.

Breakdown was grinning at him exultantly. Relishing his victory. _Gloating._

Inferno's spark exploded in white-hot rage.

With an incoherent roar of pure fury, he shoved Breakdown away from him, flinging him violently to the ground. An astrosecond later Inferno was on him, pinning the smaller mech to the ground with his greater bulk, his nozzle retracting, his hands clenching into fists. Half-blinded by rage, Inferno hit him again and again, bringing every ounce of his considerable strength to bear, relentlessly pounding the dusty blue-and-white chassis.

"I have _you?!_" he screamed. "This is all your fault! _You_ did this! You _ruined_ everything!"

There was more, so much more that he wanted to say, a veritable torrent of vituperation, but his vocalizer fritzed before he could utter the words, refusing to emit anything but pointless static. In his processor, the stream of invective continued unabated.

You _made me betray Red Alert. _You _made me say those things to him. _You _made him hate me. I hate you!_

Breakdown kicked and struggled, raising his arms in a vain attempt to ward off the merciless fists of the incensed Autobot, striving to shield himself from the storm of abuse raining down on him, but there was no escaping Inferno's wrath. Inferno was larger, stronger, and had him bodily pinned. Punch after punch dented his plating.

_Scream,_ Inferno raged. _I want to hear you _scream!_ I want to you to _hurt._ I want you to _suffer._ I want you _broken!

Breakdown squirmed and twisted beneath him in a futile effort to get away. He occasionally emitted a faint grunt in response to a particularly fierce blow, but no cry of pain escaped him.

The memory came to Inferno then, the memory of Breakdown trembling in his arms. Trembling in _pain._

_I know how to hurt you,_ he thought triumphantly. _I know what will make you scream._

He abandoned slamming his fists into the Decepticon in favor of groping for his panel, finding and forcing it open. A moment later his extended spike was engulfed in tight, gripping heat.

_This is what you wanted, wasn't it?_ he thought viciously. _Take it, you little glitch! Take it, and _scream _for me!_

It was over in five fierce thrusts.

Breakdown hadn't screamed. He'd voiced a startled squeak when Inferno shoved himself inside him, and a few strained whimpers had followed, but that was all.

Inferno's overload hit him like a douse of cold water, abrupt and startling. The all-consuming rage and insanity drained out of him along with the heated fluids he released into Breakdown's battered valve. He stared down at the Stunticon, numb and quivering with shock, the same thought passing through his processor for the second time in a single orn:

_Primus, what have I done?_

His mouth opened, but no words emerged. He didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? What apology or excuse could possibly suffice? He was a monster. How do you say you're sorry for being a monster?

The expression on Breakdown's scuffed faceplate didn't help matters. He didn't look angry, or even particularly distraught.

He looked...confused.

It was Breakdown who finally broke the silence that had stretched out between them. "I liked it better the way you did it before," he said reproachfully.

Inferno stared at him in disbelief, his vocalizer stuttering. "You...you weren't supposed to _like_ it, you stupid Decepticon! I just _raped_ you!"

"Oh."

_He doesn't understand. He doesn't realize what just happened to him._

"Can you do it the other way now? The way that feels good?"

Inferno couldn't believe his own audials.

_He's not even angry that I hurt him._

He straightened, pulling himself off of the Stunticon, retracting his spike and sitting up. Breakdown hissed and flinched, his legs twitching slightly as the large spike withdrew from his valve. The reaction made Inferno wince in an uneasy blend of sympathy and guilt; the movement drew his optics. Breakdown's thighs were streaked with a mixture of energon, lubricant and Inferno's own fluids. Looking at it made his fuel tank churn. _He'd_ done that.

Breakdown was watching him expectantly. Waiting.

Inferno looked back at the disturbing sight. There was no way Breakdown's damaged valve would be up to another round of interfacing so soon, not even the gentlest he could manage. But the weight of his own guilt was crushing him, and the Decepticon's bewildered purple optics were on him...

He slid his hands down the smaller mech's thighs, coaxing them further apart as he inched himself backwards. Lowering his helm, he leaned down and cycled his intakes, blowing a brief burst of cool air over the Stunticon's seeping valve.

Breakdown flinched again, eyeing him warily. "What are you doing?"

"_This_," Inferno replied, running his glossa up Breakdown's inner thigh.

Breakdown's gasp of surprise became a whimper of pleasure as Inferno's glossa reached his valve, tracing around the rim and then dipping briefly inside. He whined as Inferno diverted back to his thighs to lick them clean, chasing away all the lingering liquid traces of his assault. He panted and writhed when Inferno returned his attentions once more to his valve, glossa gently thrusting and probing.

Breakdown's hips jerked in response, but Inferno held him firmly in place, his glossa alternating between flicking and teasing the external sensor node and delving in as deep as he could reach. Breakdown keened in need and frustration, his engine revving wildly.

"_Now_," Breakdown begged in a hoarse whisper. "Oh please, _please_, now."

Inferno hesitated a moment, then transformed his right hand back into a nozzle. Slimmer and smoother than his spike, it slid into Breakdown's now well-lubricated valve easily.

Breakdown mewled, his hips trying to buck, but even Inferno's single hand was enough to hold him in place as he gently worked the nozzle slowly in and out.

Breakdown's arms came up, covering his battered faceplate, hiding his optics. He tensed and shuddered, quietly sobbing his overload.

Inferno carefully eased his nozzle free.

He got to his feet, turning away from the supine Decepticon, preparing to transform and drive away – not back to the _Ark_, he couldn't face Red Alert now, couldn't face any of them, but he couldn't stay _here_ – when Breakdown's voice halted him.

"Wait," was all Breakdown said.

"What?" Inferno asked grudgingly.

"I'm...I'll be here again in three orbital cycles." He looked faintly sheepish, half-shrugging. "I always come here."

Inferno stared at him. _Three Earth days._ That was when he would have had his next private rendezvous with Red Alert, if they'd still been having them. After Breakdown had attacked them, they'd deemed it wise to make other arrangements.

He realized with a jolt that _today_ would have been a meeting day, too.

_I've seen you. I've watched you,_ Breakdown had said.

Breakdown had known about their secret trysts, learned their schedule. He'd timed his initial attack for their arrival. He'd come back today expecting them to return – or hoping they would.

Hoping _Inferno_ would.

And Inferno had.

Now Breakdown was suggesting they do it again, that Inferno come and meet with _him_ the way he'd previously met with Red Alert.

That he take the place of Inferno's lover.

_I could never betray Red Alert._

But he _had_ betrayed Red Alert. At least twice now.

Red would never forgive him. Not for the horrible things he'd said, and certainly not for what he'd just done.

Inferno regarded the Stunticon thoughtfully. Breakdown was attractive, for a Decepticon. He possessed many qualities that appealed to Inferno, many of the same qualities that had originally drawn him to Red Alert. Small in size and build – Inferno had always preferred femmes and smaller mechs – intelligent, submissive in the berth. Blue and white rather than red and white like Red Alert, but still an acceptably Autobot color scheme. Optics of exotic violet rather than the distinctive Decepticon crimson. Fast, ground-based alt mode.

Not an Autobot...but not bad.

Unlike Red Alert, Breakdown knew what a monster Inferno really was. And unlike Red Alert, Breakdown still wanted him.

Inferno wasn't sure why. He'd hurt him, beaten him, even raped him, yet Breakdown didn't seem to care. Pit, he'd come back and asked for more.

Who was Inferno to deny him? Especially when no Autobot would have him. What Autobot would want such a depraved and detestable mech?

A Decepticon lover suited Inferno. No, it was what he _deserved_.

Breakdown began to fidget under Inferno's appraising gaze. "What? Stop gawking at me!"

"I'll be here."

Breakdown seemed startled, but delight lit his optics. "Oh. Okay."

They departed in opposite directions.


	3. Playing with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inferno agrees to meet secretly with Breakdown. Will he be able to let him go again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inferno's POV. My attempt to answer [this](http://community.livejournal.com/tf2007fun/506446.html?thread=17997134#t17997134) prompt (my ninth!) from the kink meme.

**Smoke and Mirrors: Playing with Fire**

Breakdown was late.

Inferno had arrived at the designated coordinates at the agreed-upon time, expecting to find the Stunticon waiting for him as he had been in their previous two encounters, but after several kliks of waiting, Breakdown still hadn't appeared.

Inferno had run a long-range scan, and then a second, more intensive one, the sort normally used only when patrolling in known hostile territory. Both had come up empty. There was no trace of Breakdown's energy signature.

Unless Megatron had devised some new form of cloaking technology for his troops, Inferno was alone. His only company was a distant bird circling overhead – not Laserbeak, he'd checked – and an insect chirring somewhere beneath a clump of creosote.

Inferno fidgeted nervously, a growing unease stirring in his spark. Was Breakdown not coming? Had the Stunticon changed his mind about this little rendezvous?

It would probably be better for both of them if he had. If someone were to find out that Inferno had agreed to meet secretly with a Decepticon – to interface, no less – he could only imagine the response it would provoke.

Inferno didn't think either of them would be deactivated for it if they were caught. The Autobots didn't practice capital punishment. The Decepticons did, but Breakdown was part of a gestalt, and would therefore be considered too valuable to terminate.

Still, it was a massive risk. He shouldn't even be here; it was insane that he'd agreed to come at all, let alone that he'd actually _showed up_.

Maybe Breakdown had decided it was too much of a risk.

But that didn't really jibe with Breakdown's personality, given his previous actions. Ambushing a pair of Autobots on his own, approaching one without a weapon drawn…no, it was evident that Breakdown had little fear of the Autobots.

Or at least, very little fear of _Inferno._

So maybe it wasn't that Breakdown was _afraid_ to come. Perhaps he had simply decided Inferno wasn't worth the trouble. Maybe he'd found someone else to obsess over, someone from his own faction.

The thought caused a small ache in Inferno's spark. The reaction surprised him. If anything, he should be _relieved_, should count himself lucky that fate had intervened and solved the problem for him, preventing him from taking what was undoubtedly a very unwise course of action.

But the reality was, it hurt. It hurt just a little to consider the possibility that he might have been replaced. Abandoned, forgotten, tossed aside like so much scrap.

Maybe it wasn't that Breakdown had decided not to come. Maybe something had happened to him. Inferno hadn't been commed, hadn't heard anything about Decepticon activity, but the Decepticons fought amongst themselves almost as much as they fought with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown had gotten into a fight with one of the other 'Cons and been too badly damaged to come and meet Inferno. Perhaps he'd even been deactivated. The thought made his spark clench.

It troubled him that he actually _cared_.

To be honest, he'd been looking forward to this meeting. He was somewhat ashamed to admit it even to himself, but it was true. He'd been avoiding Red Alert ever since their...falling out. He'd been avoiding everyone, really. Every 'Bot he met seemed to be judging him, staring at him with accusing optics. They didn't say anything, but Inferno sensed that they knew. He felt as if his guilt had been inscribed on his faceplate for all to see.

He desperately needed someone to talk to.

Breakdown would probably listen. Breakdown wanted him. He didn't mind that Inferno was a monster. He knew the truth, and he'd still asked Inferno to meet with him.

Except he was late. Maybe not coming at all.

Inferno was about to give up, about to transform and return to the _Ark_ in defeat, when the distant whine of a high-performance engine reached his audials. A vehicle was approaching at high speed, a rising plume of dust marking its approach.

The Lamborghini braked a few meters short of his position, slipping into a sideways drift to finally skid to a halt almost directly in front of the Autobot. It was an impressive maneuver, one that required considerable skill – Inferno could never have pulled it off in his own alt mode – yet the Stunticon performed it blithely, making it look effortless.

Breakdown transformed, turning to face him.

"Where the frag were you?" Inferno demanded, more sharply than he'd intended. "I've been waitin' for over a breem!"

Breakdown's smile of greeting faltered. Apprehension flickered in his optics.

"I was – Wildrider and Drag Strip saw me leaving; they followed me. I had to lose them first."

"Are you _sure_ you lost them? They're not going to show up here, are they?"

Breakdown shook his helm. "No. I'm sure."

Inferno nodded, mollified. The truth was, his spark had surged with relief at the sight of the Decepticon, and Breakdown's showy entrance had caused his core temperature to jump several degrees.

Breakdown regarded him warily. "Are you going to hurt me again? Because I was late?"

Inferno winced inwardly, a pang of guilt shooting through his spark.

"No," he replied. "No, I'm not."

A degree of tension he hadn't noticed before eased from Breakdown's frame in response to his words. "So you're going to do it the good way?" he asked hopefully.

Inferno fought to suppress a smile. Breakdown's enthusiasm was almost…cute. "Yes."

Violet optics watched him as he moved forward, alight with anticipation.

Inferno began by stroking Breakdown's faceplate, tracing its contours and then running his thumb across the Decepticon's lip components. Finding them hot to the touch, he leaned down to capture them in a kiss.

Breakdown pressed into him with an eager whimper, returning the kiss hungrily. When Inferno probed with his glossa, Breakdown immediately welcomed it, opening his mouth to accept the deeper kiss.

Retracting his nozzle, Inferno reached for Breakdown's shoulder-tires with both hands, dipping his fingers into the wheel wells and tracing the rims, never breaking the kiss.

Breakdown moaned into his mouth, arching against him in response to the stimulation of one of his hot spots. Inferno felt his core temperature spike in response to that sound, his spark beginning to pulse with the first stirrings of desire.

It was easy to pleasure the Stunticon; Breakdown was so eager Inferno hardly needed to touch him at all, and he seemed to share most of Red Alert's hot spots, besides.

_Don't think about him_, Inferno thought, quickly quashing the memories that arose in his processor as he recalled the places Red Alert liked to be touched. _Focus, Inferno. You've got a mech right here who wants you, think about that._

Gathering himself, he returned his attention to the task at hand. It got easier once he started concentrating on the ways that Breakdown was _different_ from his former lover.

Breakdown's wheels and spoiler were every bit as sensitive as Red Alert's, but his grille – which Red Alert lacked – also proved to be highly responsive to direct stimulation. Inferno ran his fingers back and forth across it repeatedly, delighting in the soft gasps and whimpers his efforts elicited, sounds he had to dial up his audials to hear – Red Alert was so much more _vocal_ – and the way Breakdown arched into his fingers, silently pleading for more.

Pleased by his enthusiastic response, Inferno turned Breakdown in his arms so that the Stunticon was facing away from him, embracing him from behind. Continuing to slide his fingers back and forth over the slats of Breakdown's grille, Inferno rumbled seductively into his audial and revved his engine hard, sending a barrage of powerful vibrations through Breakdown's sensitive spoiler, pressed tightly against his chestplate.

Breakdown stiffened against him with a breathy cry, his own engine giving a sharp, startled rev as a series of tremors ran through his frame, rattling his plating. The sudden burst of heat and crackling electric surge that emanated from the Decepticon left little doubt as to what had happened.

Inferno couldn't believe it. Breakdown had overloaded from his touch alone! Inferno hadn't so much as laid a hand on his _panel_, let alone his interface array, and yet–!

The realization made his engines give an involuntary rev. None of his previous lovers, not even Red Alert, had ever overloaded from mere frame foreplay. The fact that Breakdown _had_ might have been due to his relative inexperience, but that didn't make it any less flattering – or _erotic_ – to Inferno.

Later, he resolved, he would teach Breakdown how to touch _him_, show him all the special places Inferno liked to be touched, but right now it was hardly necessary. His core temperature was nearing its limit, a simmering charge steadily building in his circuits, his cooling fans spinning futilely at the peak of their capacity.

Judging from the heat pouring off his chassis and the way he was panting through his intakes, fans cycling noisily, Breakdown was in a similar state of readiness in spite of his recent overload.

Inferno eased him to the ground – not a difficult task as Inferno was presently supporting most of his weight; Breakdown could barely _stand_ – and promptly joined him there, his hands immediately going to the Decepticon's knees, urging Breakdown's thighs apart as his panel clicked open, his spike extending to its full length.

Breakdown's vents gave a startled hitch. Inferno looked up at the sound, and was surprised and disturbed by the look of alarm on his partner's faceplate.

"What's wrong?"

Breakdown was staring at his extended spike with obvious apprehension. "I don't like this part," he said quietly.

Inferno was baffled. "What d'you mean? I thought you _wanted_ this."

"I _do_, I just – I don't like _this_ part," Breakdown explained. At Inferno's questioning look, he clarified, "It's going to hurt. I don't like the part where it hurts."

Glancing down at his extended spike, Inferno understood. The realization caused a sad, sinking feeling in his spark. He had only himself to blame. The entirety of Breakdown's interfacing experience could be counted on two fingers, and both had been with Inferno, who'd regrettably been less than gentle on both occasions, at least when it came to penetrating him. It was only natural that Breakdown would conclude that the act itself was _always_ painful.

"It won't hurt," Inferno assured him.

Breakdown looked dubious.

"It hurt the first time because you still had the factory seal over your valve," Inferno explained. "Every mech starts out with one. Breakin' a seal is always a little painful, but it's worse if your partner isn't careful. I didn't know you had a seal, so I didn't know to be careful. That's why it hurt."

Breakdown eyed him suspiciously. "What about the other time?"

Inferno sighed through his intakes. "That was my fault too. I…I started before you were ready. I'm – I'm sorry about that."

"So it doesn't always hurt?"

"It shouldn't _ever_ hurt, if you're doin' it right. Maybe a little if you rush things too much, but most of the time if you're in _that_ much of a hurry, you don't mind a little pain along the way. The part that comes after makes up for it, y'know?"

"I guess." Breakdown still looked slightly doubtful, but appeared to be at least somewhat reassured by Inferno's explanation.

"I'm not going to hurt you like I did last time," Inferno assured him. "Not this time, not ever again. I promise."

Breakdown regarded him silently for a moment, as if gauging the Autobot's sincerity. "Okay."

Sensing he was still uncertain, Inferno tried another tack, "Would you like to touch it?"

Breakdown looked hesitant.

"It's all right," Inferno said. "Go ahead."

Tentative fingers reached for the quivering spike, gingerly brushing the tip.

"Here," Inferno said, taking Breakdown's hand in his, guiding it to the base of his spike and wrapping his fingers around it. "Like this." He showed him how to stroke slowly up the length of the shaft and back down again, then released his hand so that Breakdown could attempt it on his own.

He did so, haltingly. Inferno moaned softly in response; a slight exaggeration, but he wanted to reassure the younger mech. Breakdown looked up at the sound.

"That feels good?" he queried.

"_Mmmm_," Inferno affirmed, a faint hint of static lending an uncharacteristic huskiness to his vocalizer.

Breakdown's purple optics lit up at the appreciative tone. He repeated the motion, stroking the spike more firmly this time, Inferno's approval lending him greater confidence.

Inferno allowed him to continue, moaning or sighing periodically to encourage his efforts while he turned his attention back to his original focus: the still-closed interface panel nestled between Breakdown's parted thighs.

He caressed it gently, feeling the heat that radiated from the small rectangle of metal suffusing his fingertips as he traced the seams. Nervousness aside, it was clear that Breakdown was still significantly aroused, and having overloaded once already – Inferno's engine revved again at the thought – his valve was sure to be well-lubricated. All that was needed was little more coaxing to persuade him to open up.

The initial distraction of touching Inferno's spike for the first time had begun to lose some of its effect – by now Breakdown had noticed that Inferno was touching him _there_ – but Breakdown's only response was to lift his hips and push against Inferno's hand, clearly wanting more. Indeed, Inferno's efforts seemed to be an even greater distraction; Breakdown's grip on his spike was beginning to falter.

"Should I – keep doing it?" he panted, then uttered a needy keen, trying to arch into Inferno's touches with only one hand free to brace himself.

"It feels wonderful," Inferno replied, leaning in to kiss him, "but _inside_ you –" he informed him between kisses, "– feels even _better_."

"It – oh, _ooooh_, do _that_ – it does?"

"Oh, _yes_," Inferno replied emphatically, rubbing harder, "All tight, an' wet, an' ready for me – winds me up just _thinkin'_ about it."

Breakdown's panel clicked open obligingly.

Inferno wasted no time in plundering the newly revealed treasure, plunging two fingers into the slick, eager valve and working them in and out, curling and twisting them to stimulate all the delicate sensor nodes lining the interior walls. His efforts were greeted by a keening moan and a fresh, hot surge of lubricant.

Just as he'd suspected, Breakdown was more than ready for him.

Once more, Inferno leaned down to kiss him, withdrawing his fingers and catching hold of Breakdown's hand - still loosely wrapped around his spike - drawing it upward and placing it against the nearer of his helm crests. Breakdown caught on quickly, immediately latching on to the wing-like crests with both hands, gripping them tightly as he returned Inferno's fervid kisses with ardent enthusiasm.

Inferno groaned heatedly in response to the stimulation, repositioning himself to line up his aching spike with Breakdown's drenched and hungry valve. Unable to wait any longer, he drove his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with a single thrust.

Breakdown broke the kiss with a startled squeak at finding himself so suddenly _filled_, stiffening beneath him. Inferno grunted in both pleasure and pain as the Stunticon's valve abruptly clamped down on his spike like a vise.

He raised his helm, meeting wide, frightened optics.

"Do you want me to stop?" he gritted out, his vocalizer strained by the pressure on his sensitive spike. He wasn't sure he could withdraw now even if he wanted to, but he needed to ask.

"Y-yes – no – I don't know –" Breakdown whined breathlessly.

"Does it hurt?"

"Noooo…but it's _really_ big."

Flattered by the unintentional compliment, Inferno fought back an inappropriate urge to smile in spite of his discomfort. "It's okay," he assured him, "it'll be all right. You just need to relax."

Being careful to hold himself very, very still, he began kissing the Stunticon again, slow, gentle kisses meant to soothe his anxiety. At the same time, his hands began moving over Breakdown's chassis, stroking seams and wires and stimulating sensor nodes at a calm, unhurried pace. Hesitant at first, Breakdown was soon returning his kisses and making little sounds of pleasure in response to his touches.

Slowly, gradually, Breakdown began to relax, the tension bleeding from his frame.

Inferno cycled his vents in a sigh of relief as the painful pressure around his spike finally eased.

"I'm going to move now," he told him. "Just a little at first. If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop."

"…okay."

At first, he scarcely moved at all, shifting only slightly so as not to alarm his partner again. When this elicited no complaint, he initiated a series of slow, gentle thrusts, taking his time and savoring the warmth and tightness of the valve enveloping him, the exquisite sensation of his spike sliding smoothly in and out.

Breakdown seemed to appreciate the sensation as well, judging from the way he moaned and clung to him, wrapping his legs around Inferno's waist components and rolling his hips to meet each thrust.

Satisfied that Breakdown was enjoying himself, Inferno quickened his pace. A minor adjustment to the angle of his partner's hips was equally well-received; Breakdown voiced a soft – though unusually loud, for him – cry as the new angle caused Inferno's spike ridges to rub against a particularly receptive cluster of sensor nodes within his valve, a cry that was repeated with every pump of Inferno's hips, much to Inferno's delight.

Breakdown's valve was beginning to flex around his spike, heat pouring off his chassis, arcs of electricity leaping over his frame; he wouldn't last much longer. He was already arching under him, tugging urgently at Inferno's shoulders and lifting his chin, silently pleading.

Inferno knew what he wanted, and was only too happy to oblige him, capturing his lip components in a deep, passionate kiss. Breakdown overloaded with a raw cry that filled Inferno's mouth, his hips bucking as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

The hot, electric surge of Breakdown's release crackling between them combined with the vibrations from his revving engine and the sensation of his valve clenching around Inferno's spike pushed the Autobot right to the teetering brink of ecstasy; a trio of fast, hard thrusts pushed him over the edge.

He collapsed atop the smaller mech, panting through his intakes in a vain attempt to cool his overheated circuits. Breakdown didn't seem to mind being trapped beneath his greater bulk, or if he did, he voiced no protest.

Inferno eventually recovered enough to lift himself off his strangely silent partner, settling into a comfortable sitting position beside him.

"You okay there?" he asked, glancing down.

Breakdown emitted a contented humming sound. His optics were dimmed, his limbs slack. He looked like a mech on the brink of slipping into forced recharge – albeit a very happy one.

Inferno frowned faintly. Interfacing always resulted in a certain amount of energy drain, but it was rare for a mech to be exhausted by a single overload–or even two, in Breakdown's case.

Feeling an odd twinge of worry that was at odds with the insignia emblazoned on Breakdown's chestplate, Inferno stroked the Stunticon's faceplate gently in an effort to rouse him.

"Hey…y'alright? Talk to me, sparkling," he inquired gently.

"Mmm'okay," Breakdown murmured, stirring slightly.

"No you're not," Inferno disagreed. "You're runnin' on fumes – what were your energy reserves at when you got here?"

Breakdown hummed contemplatively and then replied, "I dunno…forty..?"

"Forty _percent?_" Inferno squeaked in shock. "That's almost critical!"

"No 's not – 's normal."

Inferno was horrified. He knew that the Decepticons were endlessly seeking new energy sources to plunder, but he'd always assumed they did so order to enact whatever scheme Megatron had cooked up in his twisted processor that day. He'd never considered that the warriors themselves might be energon-deprived.

Now that he thought about it though, it made sense. Unlike the Autobots, the Decepticons had no friendly human allies willing to donate energy to support them. And of course any time the 'Cons tried to _steal_ what they needed, the Autobots did their best to stop them.

A surge of pity welled up within him as he gazed down at the depleted mech sprawled beside him. The fact that Breakdown was practically a sparkling didn't help matters.

He reached into his subspace pocket, retrieving a chamois cloth that he used to clean up and put himself back in order, and then repeated the action on the drowsing Decepticon. That accomplished, he returned it to subspace and brought out the spare cube of energon he always kept on him in case of emergencies.

He took a sip to bolster his own reserves, and then nudged Breakdown. "Hey. Drink this."

The fumes alone were enough to cause Breakdown to stir. Inferno helped him to sit up, and held the cube while Breakdown sipped from it. After a few swallows, he looked at Inferno expectantly.

"Go on," Inferno told him. "All of it."

Breakdown's optics widened at that, but he complied without argument.

Inferno felt another twinge. It was painfully obvious from Breakdown's behavior that he'd never been given a full cube to consume on his own. It made him sparksick to think about it.

_I don't think Breakdown's happy being a Decepticon._

Red Alert had said that. Inferno wondered if it was true. It seemed likely. What mech would enjoy coming online only to be forced to fight in a war he knew nothing about? And energon-starved, besides. No wonder he'd been drawn to the Autobots.

To _Inferno._

Maybe Red was right. Maybe Breakdown _had_ been reaching out to them, the only way he knew how. Watching him now, having gotten to know him, Inferno no longer questioned or resented his former lover's seemingly radical suggestion.

_We should have brought him back with us. Back to the_ Ark.

What if he did just that?

Breakdown was polishing off the last of the energon cube when Inferno voiced his thoughts.

"I think you should come back with me."

"What?"

"I think you should come back to the _Ark_ with me."

Breakdown looked nonplussed. "I can't do that. That's the _Autobot_ base."

"That's right," Inferno confirmed. "An' I'm an Autobot. You could be too, if you wanted."

"But what about–"

"We'd keep you safe," Inferno assured him. "From Megatron, from all of them. We wouldn't let them hurt you. We'd take care of you."

Inferno met Breakdown's bewildered purple optics. "_I'd_ take care of you."

Breakdown hesitated, uncertain, but seemingly unable to look away from the Autobot's serious gaze, from his sincere blue optics.

"…okay," he agreed in a very small voice.

* * *

Returning to the _Ark_ with a Decepticon in tow had been…interesting, to say the least.

Inferno had commed ahead, but that had only served to draw a crowd to the entrance of the _Ark_ to await their arrival.

"They're all looking at me," Breakdown complained.

"It's gonna be all right," Inferno reassured him. "I won't let 'em hurt you. An' once I tell them you want to join us, everything'll be okay."

The other Autobots were mystified as to why Inferno had returned with the Decepticon who'd recently attacked him following so docilely in his wake, but they were confident enough in their greater numbers and home base advantage to await an explanation. Curiosity was keeping them in check, at least for the moment.

Inferno transformed upon reaching the entrance, and Breakdown did the same. A number of Autobots were present, but Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide and Optimus Prime stood at the forefront. Inferno addressed them directly.

"This is gonna sound kinda unusual, but…Breakdown here wants to join us."

The reaction was instantaneous. Ironhide bellowed, _"What?!"_ Prowl looked like he'd fried a logic circuit. Jazz barked a startled half-laugh. Optimus tilted his helm thoughtfully.

Breakdown drew closer to Inferno, half-hiding behind him.

The rest of the gathered crowd began shouting questions, and Inferno did his best to answer them. Yes, the Stunticon really wanted to join them. No, it wasn't a Decepticon trick. No, Breakdown wasn't a spy sent to infiltrate their base.

Quickly tiring of trying to shout answers to an increasingly unruly crowd, Inferno looked to the senior officers for help.

"Perhaps we should discuss the matter in private," Prowl suggested tactfully, well aware of Inferno's recent history with the Decepticon.

It soon became evident that Prowl didn't intend for Breakdown to be included in that conversation; he ordered Ironhide to escort the Stunticon to the brig. Breakdown edged even further behind Inferno as Ironhide moved to obey.

"Wait," Inferno protested. "He's not gonna hurt anyone. Couldn't we just…assign him a room somewhere?"

A wave of outraged protests arose in response to _that_ suggestion. Inferno sensed more than felt Breakdown tensing behind him; to run, or to fight, Inferno wasn't sure. For a few kliks the beleaguered Autobot tried and failed to make himself heard over the shouts of his comrades, but even dialed up to its highest volume setting, his vocalizer couldn't penetrate the din.

Optimus Prime finally intervened and took control of the situation, quelling the heated debate with calm words. "If Inferno feels the brig is unnecessary, then we can make other arrangements."

In the end, Breakdown had been installed in what amounted to "guest" quarters, albeit with some minor security measures in place. His comms had been blocked and the locking code on the door engaged – to keep him "out of trouble." It wasn't exactly the warm welcome Inferno had promised, but at least Breakdown wasn't behind energon bars.

That accomplished, Inferno and the senior officers relocated to a conference room to hear his explanation and decide how to proceed.

Inferno remained stubbornly circumspect about how he'd come to meet with the Decepticon again, how he'd persuaded Breakdown to come back to the Ark with him, or why he'd decided to attempt such a thing in the first place. Fortunately the others seemed to sense his discomfort and didn't press him for details, perhaps imagining it was related in some way to the Stunticon's attack on him. Inferno might have been more forthcoming, if not for one thing:

Red Alert had also attended the meeting.

But to everyone's surprise – Inferno included – the normally borderline-paranoid Security Director proved to be Breakdown's most vocal advocate. Jazz made a joke about "Lambo loyalty," but Inferno knew better. He offered his former lover a sheepishly grateful look when their optics met. Red's responding expression was unreadable.

One by one, Red Alert refuted every argument the others made. When Ironhide stressed again that Breakdown was a _Decepticon_ and not to be trusted, Red retorted that he was a _newly sparked_ Decepticon, and went on to remind them of how the newly-sparked Dinobots had once defected, as had the Aerialbots…

When Prowl pointed out that in those instances the Dinobots and Aerialbots had promptly returned, Red Alert argued that the reason they'd done so was because Megatron had betrayed them, something Optimus Prime would never do to Breakdown.

No one had been willing to dispute _that._

Red Alert also reminded them that Optimus had welcomed Skyfire into their ranks, in spite of the fact that the shuttle had once been a Decepticon, and that Skyfire had since gained trust and acceptance as an Autobot, even proving himself an asset to their cause with no apparent regrets.

Jazz was quick to point out that Skyfire hadn't been a Decepticon all that long, and was a pacifist besides, something Breakdown demonstrably _wasn't_ – here he cast a sympathetic glance at Inferno – and that the odds were good the Stunticon would turn on them the first chance he got.

For a moment a tense, thoughtful silence had reigned, and it seemed like that would be the end of it, but then Red Alert had rallied, reminding them all that Breakdown was part of a gestalt, and that by allowing him to remain at the _Ark_, they would effectively be denying Megatron the use of Menasor, thereby tipping the balance of power in their favor.

Jazz had nodded; Prowl had demurred that Red Alert's point was strategically accurate. Ironhide had grumbled a bit, but conceded that it'd be "nice to have one less giant 'Con to worry about."

Optimus Prime continued to remain silent, simply listening to his officers' debate.

Red Alert concluded his argument with a confession, admitting that he had been the one to suggest to Inferno that they try to persuade Breakdown to join the Autobots, not only for all the reasons he'd given, but also because he had sensed during the attack on them that Breakdown was seeking a way to escape Megatron's rule.

In the end, it was concluded that Breakdown would be allowed to remain, albeit under lock and key until his true loyalties could be determined. Decision made, the senior officers filed out.

Inferno and Red Alert remained behind.


	4. Up in Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inferno has brought a Decepticon back to the _Ark_. Will Breakdown fit in among the Autobots?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inferno's PoV. Picks up right where the last one left off, in the conference room of the _Ark._

**Smoke and Mirrors: Up in Smoke**

"Thanks, Red." Inferno smiled gratefully at the smaller mech. "I was sure they'd all think I'd slipped a gear or somethin'."

Red Alert regarded him with a serious expression. "You didn't have to do this, Inferno."

"What do you mean?"

"I got so caught up in my scheming I didn't stop to consider your feelings," Red Alert said. "When you ran out the way you did, I was certain I'd lost you forever. I thought you'd never forgive me for being so insensitive."

Inferno stared at him in disbelief. Red Alert had thought he was angry at _him?_

"And then I find the reason you were so distant lately is because you were trying to put _my_ plan into action," Red continued, shaking his helm sadly. "Even after how I'd treated you, you still put what _I_ wanted first. Put _me_ first. You've _always_ done that. You've always stood by me, no matter how bad things got. I think...that's why I fell in love with you."

Inferno's spark swelled in response to his lover's declaration, but close on its heels was a hot surge of guilt. He _hadn't_ lost Red Alert! Red still loved him, had never _stopped_ loving him...and he'd betrayed him. Red thought Inferno had sought out Breakdown for _him_, thought Inferno had been acting selflessly, when the truth was precisely the opposite.

He had to tell him.

"Red..."

Red Alert reached up to place a hand against Inferno's cheekplate. "You're the most generous mech I know, Inferno. You're not like me – petty, spiteful, vindictive – when you see someone in pain or in need, you never hesitate. You reach out to them, no matter _who_ they are, no matter what the cost. Even Breakdown! Even after what he did to you, to us, you were still willing to help him."

It was _awful_. How could he tell Red that he wasn't caring or generous at all, that he was petty and spiteful and vindictive too? That he was really a treacherous, evil monster of a mech who didn't deserve to be loved by anyone?

If he _truly_ loved Red Alert, how could he _not_ tell him?

"Red, please..."

"I don't think I could bear the thought of existing without you, Inferno. Who else would put up with someone like _me?_ Please, say you forgive me."

"I don't have to forgive you, Red. There's nothin' to forgive–"

Red Alert looked up at him in surprise...and then smiled, shaking his helm. "I truly don't deserve you, Inferno."

Inferno's processor was whirling. He _had_ to tell Red the truth! But _how_ could he tell Red the truth? Red Alert thought he was this wonderful, selfless mech! If Inferno told him the truth, would Red Alert still love him? How _could_ he, once he'd found out what a monster Inferno really was?

And then there was Breakdown. The Stunticon was sure to tell someone what had happened between them eventually. Red Alert would find out, one way or the other.

Inferno _had_ to tell him first. It might be bad, Inferno might very well lose Red Alert forever, but if Red Alert learned the truth from someone else, Inferno knew it would be a hundred times worse.

"How _did_ you manage to contact Breakdown?" Red asked. "How did you convince him to come back with you?"

Inferno could feel the situation rapidly spinning out of control, but he struggled to stay calm. "I just...ran into him. It wasn't planned or anything, it just sorta...happened. An' all I said was that he could join us if he wanted – that we'd protect him from Megatron if he did."

At least that much was true. Half the truth was better than a lie.

Red Alert frowned thoughtfully. "Odd...I suspected he might be willing, but I would have thought he'd need more persuasion than that. He may not be completely loyal to Megatron, but he _is_ part of a gestalt. Gestalt members are said to share a special bond with one another. When the Dinobots and Aerialbots defected, they all went together."

"Well...I did give him some energon. Did you know they had him drivin' around with his reserves at _forty percent?_ An' he said that was _normal!_ That's when I knew I had to get him outta there."

Red cocked his helm slightly, regarding Inferno thoughtfully. "And that was all it took? An invitation and some energon?"

Was that suspicion in Red Alert's optics? Inferno's spark clenched in panic. He thought fast. "I guess maybe the fact that it was _me_ doin' the offerin' might have had somethin' to do with it. I mean, he did come after us that time, so, um...he knew who I was."

"Yes..." Red Alert agreed musingly. "And you were kind to him then. Perhaps he felt he could trust you."

"...maybe," was all Inferno could think to say.

"Well, I suppose we could always _ask_ him. It would be a good way to gauge his sincerity."

Red Alert was already heading for the door, clearly intent on putting his idea into action immediately. But if Red talked to Breakdown–!

"Wait!" Inferno blurted out.

Red Alert stopped, half-turning to look at him inquiringly.

"Let...let me do it. He knows me. If I ask, he'll probably tell me the truth."

Red Alert considered that. "Hmm. Perhaps you're right. Coming from me, it might seem more like an interrogation."

"Yeah," Inferno agreed. "An' anyway, I don't want you goin' near him. He may have switched sides, but he _did_ threaten to kill you. I'm not givin' him another chance until we're sure he can be trusted."

Red Alert smiled. "Fair point, Inferno. I'll leave it to you."

Inferno nearly sagged with relief. He'd bought himself some time.

And if he could convince Breakdown to keep quiet, he could buy himself some more.

* * *

Inferno keyed in the locking code to open the door to Breakdown's temporary quarters-slash-cell and peered inside. For an astrosecond he thought the room was empty, that during his absence the Decepticon had been removed or somehow escaped – but then he spotted him, huddled on the floor between the far wall and the foot of the berth.

"Hey," Inferno greeted him, stepping into the room and allowing the door to slide shut behind him. The lock re-engaged with a soft click.

Breakdown scrambled quickly to his feet, immediately assuming a fighting stance, his hands curled into fists. Upon spying Inferno, his posture relaxed marginally. "Oh. It's you."

"You okay?" Inferno asked.

Breakdown half-shrugged, trying to appear casual and failing. "Sure."

Inferno moved to join him, laying a gentle hand on the smaller mech's shoulder-tire. "It's okay to be scared," he told him.

Breakdown shrugged off his hand, half-turning away from him. "I'm not scared."

Inferno gave him a skeptical look.

"I'm _not_," Breakdown insisted. When Inferno continued to regard him with the same expression, he added, "Stop staring at me! I'm not scared!"

"Okay, okay," Inferno conceded, laying a hand on his shoulder-tire again. "You're not scared."

Breakdown seemed mollified by that; Inferno's hand was allowed to remain. For several kliks neither mech moved or spoke.

"They were all looking at me," Breakdown said quietly.

"That's because they're not used to you," Inferno replied. "But they will be soon – it's been decided! They've agreed to let you stay."

"But I don't _belong_ here," Breakdown whined, fidgeting in agitation. "I'm supposed to go back to the base. They'll be looking for me. If I don't go back, they're going to be really mad…" he trailed off, keening unhappily.

"You don't have to worry about the Decepticons anymore," Inferno reassured him. "You're safe here with us. I promise."

"No I'm _not!_" Breakdown retorted. "They're watching me! They're _staring_, I can feel it! I can _feel_ them staring at me!"

Inferno frowned in puzzlement. "There's no one here but us."

"They're _looking_ at me, I know they are!" Breakdown cried, his façade of calm crumbling in the face of his distress. "They know I don't belong here!"

Inferno reached for him again, but Breakdown pulled away, moving back to his corner and crouching there, backstruts braced against the wall, knees drawn up to his chestplate, arms wrapped around them, his helm lowered to hide his optics.

Inferno's frown deepened. Breakdown looked as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible. Given that the Stunticon was shaking hard enough to rattle his own plating, Inferno guessed he probably was. He could tell that Breakdown was trying to be brave, but Inferno had detected the faint hisses and pops of static that had crept into his vocalizer as he spoke, betraying his fear.

His spark sank a little. He'd thought Breakdown would be happy, or excited, or even simply relieved at the prospect of joining the Autobots, not _this_. Had he done the wrong thing? Would it have been better to let Breakdown go back to the Decepticons? To go back to being starved, terrorized, forced to fight?

Inferno shook his helm. No, he couldn't do that. No mech deserved that! Breakdown was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. Once he began to feel more at home, everything would be fine. He'd be glad he'd stayed; he'd have no regrets...

Nodding to himself, Inferno crossed the room and crouched down near the Decepticon's feet, reaching out to lay a hand on his knee-joint.

Breakdown flinched at the touch and curled into an even tighter ball, rocking in agitation.

"It's gonna be okay," Inferno assured him. "You just need time to get used to things."

"I don't like it here," Breakdown whimpered without raising his helm. "Everyone keeps staring. They don't want me here."

Inferno's spark clenched in sympathy. He wondered if the 'Bots who'd objected to Breakdown's presence would be half so adamant if they could see him now.

After a brief deliberation, he offlined his optics. "_I'm_ not staring," he said quietly, "and I _do_ want you here."

Being effectively blind, for a tense moment Inferno had no idea if his ploy to comfort the Stunticon had worked, but then his audials caught the faint sound of shifting metal, and he felt tentative fingers brushing against his faceplate, over his darkened optics.

"You see?" Inferno asked, a smile curving his lip components. "It's gonna be all right."

Breakdown responded by kissing him.

For an astrosecond he was too startled to react at all. Half a klik later, the only thought to enter his processor was the observation that Breakdown's inexpert technique had somewhat improved. It took a full klik – during which Breakdown continued to pepper his faceplate and lip components with shy, hesitant kisses – for Inferno to remember that he'd originally come here to request Breakdown's silence with regard to the nature of their association, and to make clear that he intended to end it.

At least the more...intimate aspects.

Delayed reaction aside, once that recollection arose in his processor, Inferno realized with a start that he no longer felt the temptation that had once seemed undeniable. Red Alert still loved him! That might change once Red learned the whole truth, but Inferno didn't wish to compound his betrayal by interfacing with Breakdown again. He'd come to care about the Decepticon, true, but he no longer felt the same despairing, self-destructive desire, the same dark, irresistible lure of the forbidden that had once driven him from his lover's side and into the arms of an enemy.

But as the Stunticon tried to climb into his lap, Inferno realized it was a moot point. Right now Breakdown _needed_ him, needed his support and reassurance, and yes, regrettably, his touch. It was clear that Inferno was the only thing Breakdown had to hang onto in his new and unfamiliar surroundings, and equally clear that he intended to hang on very, very tightly.

Still, Inferno had to try. He owed it to Red. He drew back, gently but firmly rebuffing the Decepticon's advances, and got to his feet. When Breakdown followed, reaching for him again, trying to get closer, Inferno halted him with a hand.

"Stop," he said.

He couldn't see Breakdown's expression, but the confusion was clear in his voice. "Why?"

The question was harder to answer than Inferno had thought it would be. "It's not, uh...we shouldn't...that is, um...I don't want to," he finished lamely.

"Why not? I thought you liked it. You _said_ you liked it."

Inferno could almost envision the bewildered look in those purple optics. "I know," he replied. "But we can't."

"But I _want_ you to," Breakdown persisted. "I don't understand. I came here, I did what you said–"

Inferno shook his helm, guilt bearing down on him like a crushing weight on his shoulder-struts, and turned toward the door. "I should go–"

"No!" Breakdown cried, almost frantic. "Don't go, please!"

Inferno winced, his spark twisting in its chamber. "I have to."

"But _why?_" Breakdown asked, sounding increasingly distressed. "Did I do something wrong? What did I do? Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," Inferno told him.

"Yes, you are!" Breakdown insisted. "You want to _leave_, you don't want to –" He broke off abruptly, vocalizer crackling. He fell quiet for a few astroseconds, obviously thinking, then offered haltingly, "You...you can do it the bad way, if you want. I – I'll let you. Please. Don't go."

Inferno was engulfed by a wave of horror, pity and guilt in response to Breakdown's suggestion, at the confusion and desperation inherent within it. It made his spark ache, to think that Breakdown wanted his attentions so _badly_ he'd volunteer to be taken _painfully_ rather than not at all.

"No," Inferno replied firmly, "I told you I'd never do that again, and I meant it."

Inferno didn't realize Breakdown had quietly inched over to him again until he felt the warmth of his chassis pressing against his own. "Please," he begged, his vocalizer hissing with static. "Please, I'm sorry, I'll be good, I'll do whatever you want, please..."

Inferno cycled his vents in a sigh of resignation. He didn't want to betray Red Alert again, but he didn't have the spark to refuse such desperate pleas.

"All right," he said, turning away from the door and slipping an arm around Breakdown's waist components. "I'll stay."

Breakdown practically melted into his embrace, his relief apparent to Inferno even without the benefit of his optics. He clung to Inferno as if afraid he'd disappear at any moment, which might not have been too far from the truth.

Inferno stroked his helm soothingly. "It's all right," he said. "Everything's gonna be alright, you'll see."

For a few kliks they remained that way, the Autobot murmuring meaningless words of comfort, the Decepticon clinging to him, until Inferno began to suspect that it wasn't an overload Breakdown craved so much as the simple reassurance of his touch.

But then Breakdown began kissing him again, stretching up to reach his lip components, gripping his shoulder-struts for support as he leaned into him.

Inferno returned his kisses, feeling helpless. No matter what he did, someone would get hurt. He prayed to Primus that Red Alert would understand, that he'd forgive him for being too weak-sparked to deny Breakdown, but deep down he feared that wouldn't be the case. Red wouldn't care that Breakdown had cried and begged, only that Inferno hadn't said "no."

Inferno wished he _could_ have said "no." He wished he could be here with Red Alert in his arms. It had been over two megacycles since they'd last interfaced. It felt more like an eternity.

Sighing inwardly, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, retracting his nozzle and setting both hands to the task of pleasuring Breakdown. He slid them upward along Breakdown's backstruts, seeking out the sensitive spoiler by touch and running his fingertips along its edge. Breakdown arched into his touch with a faint whimper, reaching for Inferno's helm crests, lavishing him with hungry kisses.

The gentle stimulation of one of his own hot spots felt _good_, and another wave of guilt swept over Inferno. Breakdown was making every effort to satisfy him, and Inferno was repaying him with half-measures.

It wasn't Breakdown's fault Inferno's feelings had changed. Even _he_ had been surprised by that revelation, so it was no wonder Breakdown was confused. He couldn't withdraw his affections _now_ – they were all Breakdown had, the one familiar element in his otherwise foreign and hostile surroundings.

Breaking the kiss, Inferno said, "Berth."

"What?"

He gestured in the direction of the berth he couldn't see. "If we're goin' to do this, we might as well do it right. You've never been 'faced in a proper berth; I think it's high time you were."

"Oh," was all Breakdown said. He let go of Inferno, stepping back a pace, and Inferno gathered from the brief silence that followed that he was looking speculatively at the indicated object.

His suspicion was confirmed a moment later when Breakdown asked, "Um...how do I –?"

"On your back," Inferno supplied, anticipating the question.

"Like I'm going into recharge?" Breakdown asked, sounding mildly incredulous.

"Yeah. 'Cept you won't be rechargin'...at least not anytime soon."

Breakdown laughed at that, a soft, slightly embarrassed laugh that warmed Inferno's spark. He'd never heard a Decepticon laugh like that. Maliciously, maniacally, mockingly, yes, but never so…unguarded.

The faint clank and scrape of metal against metal informed his audials that Breakdown had complied with his request. Inferno moved to join him, following the sound, using his memory of the room's layout as a guide to find his way to the berth and take a seat at the foot of it.

He reached for and found the Decepticon's legs, running his hands down their length from hip plate to foot, urging them up and apart to make room for him to kneel between them.

He had to admit there was a certain erotic appeal to being unable to see his partner, to being forced to rely solely on sound and touch. He'd first discovered that during his original encounter with Breakdown – an encounter that, like this one, had initially been less than welcome – but Inferno found the appeal had not diminished over time. A flush of heat suffused his chassis, his core temperature climbing several degrees.

He ran his hands up Breakdown's sides, then shifted them up and outward to rest flat on the berth, fingers spread wide to support his weight as he leaned down over the smaller mech. His external sensors, finely tuned to detect even the tiniest fluctuations in temperature, promptly registered the heat rising from the Stunticon's frame, a heat that was steadily increasing by the astrosecond. Using that as a guide, Inferno sought out his goal – the source of that heat, Breakdown's spark, pulsing with anticipation beneath many layers of armor plating.

The low, quavering moan that teased his audials as he circled that literal hot spot with his glossa was one of the sweetest Inferno had ever heard.

He'd always loved the way Red Alert voiced his pleasure during an interface – chanting Inferno's name with every thrust, singing it out with uninhibited abandon as he overloaded. He'd have never guessed that Breakdown's restrained moans and quiet whimpers would arouse him just as much, but the spontaneous revving of his engine left little doubt that they did.

Breakdown's engine echoed his with an answering rev, matching Inferno's desire with his own. He reached for Inferno's helm crests again, but this time instead of merely gripping them, Breakdown _stroked_, running his fingertips over every fin and ridge.

Inferno couldn't help but groan at the sudden rush of pleasure coursing through his frame, making his core temperature spike. The next thing he knew, he was growling lustfully, sucking and biting at Breakdown's neck cables, grinding their panels together hard enough to swap paint.

Breakdown's engine roared in response, his legs drawing up to twine around Inferno's waist components, his hands releasing Inferno's helm crests to clutch at his shoulder-struts as he arched and writhed beneath him.

"Oh," Breakdown gasped, soft and startled. "_Oh,_" he breathed again when Inferno shifted his weight to his left hand and plunged his right between Breakdown's thighs to vigorously stroke his panel.

"Open," Inferno commanded, his vocalizer low and husky with static.

Breakdown whimpered as the small strip of metal retracted obediently, revealing his intimate circuitry. The whimper became a moan as Inferno rubbed the heel of his palm against Breakdown's newly-exposed valve. It came away warm and slick with lubricant.

"You're so _revved_," Inferno commented in surprise. "I've barely touched you, but you're practically _soaked_."

"I can't help it," Breakdown moaned. "It feels so _good_ when you touch me."

He could only shake his helm in amazement. At this rate, Breakdown would overload before Inferno was even ready to open his panel, let alone interface.

_Oh,_ he thought, unconsciously echoing his partner, a solution to his dilemma abruptly dawning on him. He _didn't_ have to betray Red Alert! At least, not _completely_. If he could bring Breakdown to overload without actually interfacing with him, if he didn't take things all the way, that would be better, wouldn't it? It'd still be a betrayal, but a _lesser_ betrayal, one Red Alert might be willing to forgive.

"Is that...bad?" Breakdown asked worriedly, noticing his lack of response.

"No," Inferno replied sincerely. "No, not at all."

Buoyed by the hope of escaping from the trap he'd found himself in, and feeling a measure of the weight of guilt lifted from his shoulder-struts as a result, Inferno resumed his efforts with renewed enthusiasm, slipping two fingers deep into Breakdown's valve, rubbing the external sensor node with his thumb, and receiving a strained cry of pleasure in return.

"You like that?" he whispered huskily, continuing to seek out and stimulate every sensor he could find, both within and without.

"Nn-nnnhnnn," Breakdown keened, his hips bucking.

"Are you close?" he purred in the same low, seductive tone. He didn't really need to ask; the heat and electricity crackling over Breakdown's frame and the way his valve was flexing and tightening around Inferno's fingers, lubricating heavily, was answer enough.

"Yes – oh! – _yes,_" Breakdown panted, repeating the word like a mantra with every pump and grind of his hips, every thrust of Inferno's fingers, "_Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_ –"

Recalling that Breakdown liked to be kissed as he overloaded, Inferno leaned down to do so, mapping out the interior of his mouth with his glossa, unconsciously matching its movements to the rhythm of his fingers still pumping steadily in and out of Breakdown's hot, quivering valve.

Breakdown was trembling beneath him, hovering on the brink of release. Inferno could smell the ozone of his sparking circuits, feel the waves of heat radiating off his chassis, hear his engine revving wildly – he didn't _need_ his optics to know what was coming...

Breakdown unexpectedly broke the kiss, gasping through his intakes, sobbing out, "_Ah - ah - Inferno–!_" as he succumbed to overload, twitching and shuddering in throes of ecstasy.

Hearing his designation voiced in the heated tones of passion triggered a reflexive response from the Autobot: _"I love you, Red!"_

The moment the words left his vocalizer, Inferno realized his mistake. He also knew instantly that there was no hope that Breakdown had been too caught up in his overload to notice; the Decepticon had gone very, very still.

Spark clenching with dread, Inferno onlined his optics.

He'd expected anger, irritation, perhaps even disgust, but not the utterly _stricken_ expression that greeted him.

Breakdown looked so -

_He looked like the ground had been pulled out from under him._

_...lost._

"Him," Breakdown whispered, so low Inferno could barely hear him. "You're thinking about _him_."

"Breakdown…" Inferno began, but trailed off, unable to find the words to complete that sentence.

"You don't want me," the Decepticon said slowly, his tone soft and wounded, his expression a mixture of confusion, hurt, and dreadful realization. "You _never_ wanted me."

Inferno reached for him, speechless with regret but still wanting to offer comfort. Breakdown sounded so _hurt_...so _broken_...

Breakdown spied the hand reaching out to him – a hand whose fingers still glistened with the evidence of his recent overload – and flinched back, shrieking, "Don't touch me!" He began to struggle, kicking and squirming, his hands shoving at Inferno's chestplate as he endeavored to escape, pinned beneath the Autobot's large, heavy frame. "Get off!" he cried, his vocalizer crackling with static, "Get _off, get off me!_"

Chastened, Inferno hastened to obey.

Breakdown scrambled away from him on the berth, backing himself into the corner formed by the flanking walls, staring at Inferno with wide, devastated optics, his intakes heaving.

Inferno straightened, turning to face him, mouth open in preparation to offer some form of apology – and found himself face-to-face with a concussion blaster.

Now it was Inferno's turn to be rendered frozen by shock and disbelief.

His processor raced, frantically striving to process this new development. How had Breakdown managed to conceal a weapon? Hadn't anyone bothered to _search_ him?

_Of course they didn't_, his CPU informed him. _They thought_ you _had. You told them he wouldn't hurt anyone. They assumed you'd said that because you'd disarmed him!_

"Breakdown…" he tried again.

"Shut up!" Breakdown screamed. "I'm not listening to you anymore! You tricked me! You _lied!_ You, you – " he faltered, casting about for the perfect words to sum up Inferno's betrayal. "...you _hurt_ me," he whispered.

Three small words.

The crushing guilt returned, and this time it was the size of a mountain. Suddenly the thought of deactivation at Breakdown's hands seemed more fitting than frightening. No, on second thought, a concussion blast to the CPU at point-blank range was too _good_ for a mech like Inferno. It was better than he deserved – too quick, too painless.

"Do it," he said.

The blaster's barrel rattled against his helm as Breakdown's hands shook.

Inferno didn't flinch. "You're right," he said. "Do it."

Breakdown keened miserably, a disconsolate sound so spark-breakingly akin to that of a lost youngling that Inferno was overwhelmed by a wash of despair.

"Don't move," someone said.

Inferno looked up. Red Alert was standing in the open doorway, his own weapon trained on the Decepticon.

"Red!" he blurted in surprise. "How did you-?"

"Security cameras," Red Alert replied curtly, his optics never leaving Breakdown.

Inferno stared at his lover, his processor reeling. Red Alert had been watching the security feeds! He'd probably gone straight to the monitor room after he and Inferno had left the meeting!

He'd seen everything. He'd heard every word.

Red Alert may have trusted him, but he was still _Red Alert_.

"Red, I'm so sorry! I never meant to –"

"Be quiet, Inferno," Red Alert interrupted crisply. His next words were directed at the Decepticon. "Lower the gun, Breakdown."

Breakdown keened again, low and desolate.

"It's going to be all right," Red Alert told him, his tone firm but gentle. "Put down the gun. I know you don't want to hurt him."

"He hurt me," Breakdown whispered again.

"I know he did. He didn't mean to. Put the gun down, and we can talk about it."

For several kliks a tense silence reigned. No one moved. No one spoke.

Breakdown's injured gaze rested on Inferno, his violet optics wide and flickering. Inferno stared pleadingly at Red Alert, his faceplate stamped with guilt and shame, azure optics begging for forgiveness. Red Alert continued to look at Breakdown, his expression filled with sorrow and resignation.

Breakdown's arm lowered abruptly, falling limp at his side with a soft _clank_, the blaster pointed hopelessly at the floor.

"I want to go home," he said quietly.

"I think that can be arranged," Red Alert replied gently.

"No!" Inferno blurted out.

Both mechs turned to look at him in surprise.

"You…you can't go back," Inferno stammered, sensing he was on suddenly shaky ground.

"Inferno..." Red sighed.

"He can't!" Inferno insisted. "You said it yourself, Red, remember? He's–"

"Inferno!" Red cut him off, sharp as a blade.

Inferno shut his mouth abruptly, cowed by his lover's tone.

Another tense moment of silence passed between them.

"They were _starving_ him," Inferno offered weakly. "We can't just..."

Red Alert looked him in the optics, for the first time since he'd entered the room.

His lover didn't look hurt, or angry – which was a relief – but Red's strange, sorrowful expression was almost more unnerving than anger would have been. Anger, hurt, jealousy…those things Inferno could understand.

"Are you in love with him?" Red Alert asked quietly.

Inferno's optics widened, shooting back and forth between them. "What? No! No, of _course_ not, Red, I love _you!_ I've _always_ loved you! I know I've messed things up, but please, you have to believe me, I _never_–"

His declaration was interrupted by another low, painful keen. Inferno looked at Breakdown in surprise.

Red Alert, who'd also turned to look at the Stunticon, shook his helm sadly. "I love you too, Inferno," he said resignedly. "But sometimes I wish that just _once_ you would think with your processor instead of your spark. Or that you would _think_ at all."

"I don't understand–" Inferno began.

"I know you don't, Inferno. You have no idea, do you?" Red Alert shook his helm again. "I'm not surprised. But _I_ should have known. It was so _obvious_…I just didn't see it at the time."

"What are you talkin' about, Red?"

"I'm talking about _Breakdown_," Red Alert replied impatiently. "I'm talking about this – this _situation_ we're all in!" He cast a look at the Decepticon, who looked as bewildered as Inferno. "You love him, don't you?" he asked.

Breakdown seemed startled at being addressed directly. His optics widened in surprise, then flickered. He cast about uneasily, his gaze shifting from Red to Inferno, and then away, avoiding them both.

Inferno couldn't believe his audials. "That's crazy, Red! You don't seriously think–"

"Yes, Inferno, I _do_ think," Red Alert snapped. "Unlike _some_ mechs I could mention."

Stung by the barb, Inferno winced, but bulled on, turning to Breakdown. "Tell him," he demanded. "Tell him that's crazy!"

He couldn't believe Red Alert actually thought Breakdown was in _love_ with him, even suspected that Inferno loved him _back!_ He had to settle this, had to put a halt to this ridiculous notion before it gained any more momentum in his lover's paranoid processor!

"You wa-" Breakdown began, then corrected himself. "I _thought_ you wanted me."

Inferno shook his helm in frustrated disbelief. "You're _both_ crazy," he said. "I can't believe we're even talkin' about this! You're not in _love_ with me, that's...that's just stupid–!"

"_I'm not stupid!_" Breakdown screamed. "You _did_ want me! You _saved_ me!"

Both Autobots turned to stare at him in shock.

"_You're_ the one who's crazy!" Breakdown cried, his vocalizer choked with static. "You don't make _any_ sense! You kept _saying_ you didn't want me, but you still kept _doing_ it to me! You'd hurt me, a-and yell at me, but then you'd be _nice_ to me!"

Red Alert arched a browplate. Inferno shifted uncomfortably.

"And then…" Breakdown continued, his vocalizer dropping to a more normal register, "...and then you were _just_ nice, and you said…you said you wanted me to come back with you, and I thought…I thought…" he trailed off, huddling into himself, keening quietly. "It was all a _lie_," he concluded in a whisper, hiding his face in his arms. "I _am_ stupid."

"No, you're not," Red Alert told him. "He's like that."

Inferno didn't know which shocked him more – Breakdown's words, or Red Alert's. "What?!" he spluttered.

"It's just the way you are, Inferno," Red Alert replied. "You're impulsive and you don't think things through. I've come to accept that about you."

"Red…" he protested, hurt by his lover's casual, dismissive tone.

"I know you'd never _willfully_ hurt me, but that doesn't stop you from doing it carelessly or unintentionally. You always charge blindly ahead, never thinking of the consequences…"

"Red..!" Inferno said again, his voice a plea.

Red Alert smiled gently at him. "It's who you are, Inferno. It's why I fell in love with you. Who else but a blind, impulsive, _compassionate_ mech would run into a burning building to save a traitor?"

Red Alert glanced at Breakdown, still huddled on the berth, then back at Inferno. The unspoken addendum was written in his optics: _Who else would try to save a Decepticon?_

Inferno's spark pulsed with sudden hope.

"But it's that same courage and generosity that makes you stumble, Inferno. And when you do, you don't just hurt yourself. You hurt everyone who cares about you."

Red Alert looked at him then, and for the first time since he'd entered the room, he let Inferno see the hurt in his optics, the pain stamped on his faceplate.

Inferno's spark sank.

"Red…I'm so sorry–" he began, knowing it was useless. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. If he'd only _known_ Red Alert still loved him, he'd never have given in to despair, never convinced himself that Breakdown was the closest he'd ever get to having his lover back again.

No, he _should_ have known. He should have had faith in Red Alert, he should have known Red still loved him, would _always_ love him. Inferno's own doubt had led him down this path. It was _his_ fault things had turned out like this.

Red Alert offlined his optics briefly. "Don't apologize, Inferno. _I'm_ the one who's to blame for all this. I knew what you were going through, how confused you must've been…" he trailed off. "I knew _first hand_, and I still went and put that _stupid_ idea in your head!"

"I don't understand," Inferno said.

"You were absolutely right, Inferno. What you said about Starscream..."

"I didn't mean to say that, Red. I wish I'd never said it! _That's_ what caused all this!"

Red Alert stared at him in confusion. "Now I don't understand."

"I – I blamed you, Red. I knew it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't help it, but I still blamed you. And when Breakdown…when it happened, there was a part of me that was _glad_, a part that thought _we're finally even_ – and I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn't feel that way, but I couldn't help it, Red! I…I'm a monster. I don't deserve for you to love me."

Red Alert regarded him sadly. "And yet I do."

Red Alert glanced at the Breakdown, quietly watching their exchange. "I suspect I'm not the only one. Perhaps you're not quite the monster you think you are."

Inferno directed his gaze toward the Decepticon as well. "Am I?" he asked him softly.

Breakdown looked discomfited at having the attention of both Autobots fixed on him. "I…I don't know. I don't understand _any_ of this."

"He wanted to help you," Red Alert explained. "He never meant to hurt you."

Breakdown shook his helm, "No, I mean I don't _understand_ any of this!" he said, sounding frustrated. He looked at Inferno. "Why did you save me? Why did you do it with me? Why did you ask me to come here? Why did you do _all those things_ if you didn't _want_ me?"

Inferno opened his mouth to reply, but Breakdown wasn't finished.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked wretchedly. "Why don't you want me? Why do you still want _him?_ I did everything he did! I did everything you told me to do! So why? _Why don't you?_"

_He's so young_, Inferno thought as he listened to Breakdown's flood of unanswerable questions, pity swelling in his spark. _I keep forgetting how _young_ he is. _

"Because love doesn't work that way," Red Alert replied. "You can't _make_ someone love you. Just loving them isn't enough; they have to love you back. Sometimes they don't."

Maybe not so unanswerable after all.

"Oh," Breakdown said.

"Sometimes," Red Alert added, glancing pointedly at Inferno, "they just feel sorry for you. They feel bad that they don't love you back, and they don't want to hurt your feelings, so they try to pretend. It seems like the compassionate thing to do...but it's not. In the end, it hurts more."

"Yes," Breakdown said quietly, almost to himself. "It hurts."

"You don't have to leave," Inferno told him. "Not because of me. If you want to stay, if you still want to be an Autobot, you can."

Breakdown shook his helm. "No. I don't belong here. I want to go home."

"But..." Inferno began to protest, but Red Alert touched his arm, forestalling him.

"He didn't come here because he wanted to join us, Inferno. He came for _you_. Haven't you realized that yet?"

Inferno looked at the Stunticon. "Oh."

Breakdown looked from him to Red Alert and then back again. "You really don't want me? You...you want him?"

"That's right," Inferno said. "I'm sorry."

* * *

The two Autobots escorted Breakdown to the entrance of the _Ark_, where he transformed and took off with a screech of brakes and a squealing of tires. Within astroseconds, a slowly dissipating dust cloud was all that remained of his presence.

Just what Breakdown told the other 'Cons regarding his absence - assuming he told them anything at all - Inferno and Red Alert never learned. In the cycles that followed, he would appear in many battles, fighting alongside his fellow Stunticons for the glory of Megatron and the Decepticon cause.

It was probably pure coincidence that the shots he aimed at the Autobot fire truck always went wide.

***fin***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I consider this a happy ending for Breakdown. Yes, he got his heart broken, but first loves are like that, and he's wiser for the experience. It's a hard lesson to learn in any case, but I think he's better off for having had an Autobot for a teacher. *shudders to think how another 'Con might have treated him*


End file.
